Due to increased internal tensions, overtures were made to the Hutts to ensure that they would not become a problem should the Federation find itself at war. These overtures did not make much in the way of headway, until a distress call was received.
Chugga the Hutt is small time player in the hierarchy of the Hutts. His interests are small – a few illegal casinos, some smuggling and the odd share of a company or two. Ironically despite being a small time player, Chugga is one of the largest Hutts going around - which of itself is no mean feat -and many have speculated that were it not for his appetite, he could have amassed much more wealth and power.
During an eating contest at his base of operations, a bounty hunter that Chugga had stiffed on an earlier payment snuck in and spirited away the Hutts offspring, the Huttlet known as Shugga. Shugga is 10 standard years old, and was removed from the brood pouch in order for him to be trained to take over Chuggas empire when the time was right. He was given a miniature golden throne like the one his father had, but ironically made him significantly easier to capture. The bounty hunter cunningly replaced the actual huttlet with a fake one made entirely out of rubber.

Once Chugga found out, he was enraged, and contacted his relatives who, seeing this as a matter of family and species honour, became enraged as well.

The Federation may not have had a part to play, but for the fact that the bounty hunter, a Twi’lek named Findomo took the huttlet to Corellia, and specifically Coronet City. After a call was placed through to one of the contact points in the federation, seizing an opportunity to put the Hutts in our debt, or at the very least find a way to remove any potential resentment they may have toward the Federation, the contact point offered to retrieve the Huttlet free of charge and the head of the bounty hunter on a silver platter. This pleased the Hutts who agreed, but have given the Federation one standard week to retrieve the offspring. Unspecified was what might occur should the huttlet not be retrieved.

It should also be noted that due to the current war, available forces are limited.

Briefing:

The mission is simple: retrieve the huttlet, and kill Findomo. It has been confirmed through Hutt and ISIS that Findomo is definitely on Corellia, but with a penchant for disguises, no trace of him or the huttlet has been seen since he arrived in system.

Crystala had never been in a worse flophouse before, which was surprising as she was only a half-hour drive away from downtown Coronet City. The Blue Sector made it seem like she was on an entirely different world, the seedy areas, grimy streets and overabundance of spice, it was difficult to imagine she was actually on Corellia, yet here she was. Staring at the mirror, she examined her disguise, a red wig and casual dress, a little out of place in the crime ridden locale though only insofar as all the spice users and addicts that roamed the streets. Numerous well dressed criminals also roamed the place, though many of them walked around with guard details to keep the muggers and murderers at bay.

Can't believe I let myself get talked into this... IMEXCO had decided this would be a good opportunity for the NIF to secure some support in Hutt Space though Crystala vehemently objected to the idea, claiming that Hutts were untrustworthy allies. The others, however, weren't so easily swayed as they claimed the potential benefits were far and beyond the potential for things to go south, after all, it was her department's job to make sure things didn't go south.

So now Crystala was tasked with killing a bounty hunter and rescuing a young Hutt. Looking at the eyes in the reflection, she tried to reassure herself this undertaking would be worth it. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, Crystala stood up and picked up a briefcase next to the dusty dresser beneath the mirror. Though she was looking more for an excuse to get the hell out of this room and flophouse, there was a surprising amount of work to get done.

No one knew where Findomo was now, the fact that he was on Corellia at all the only confirmation the ISIS had through several informants spread throughout the sector. His ship was confirmed to have arrived however Findomo abandoned it as soon as he landed on Corellia, local spaceport authorities and ISS operatives seizing it almost instantly, a move that, in hindsight, was probably a horrible idea as the possibility that Findomo might return to his ship now dashed now that it was impounded.

Thankfully, it was the local Corellian Defense Force that had the vessel seized for numerous offenses in the past. Still, the fact that the ISS was too slow to act and stakeout the vessel sooner and keep the Corellians at bay wasn't lost on the Director-General, nor IMEXCO. It was perhaps overkill, but Crystala knew there would only be one way to redeem the ISIS over the perceived failure and her personal involvement was perhaps the most drastic measure she could take.

The trail was more or less dead at this point, the thought that Findomo was in the Blue Sector at all was more conjecture than fact or even rumour. If the Twi'lek was a master of disguise, it was likely he was going to use some of the services here who didn't keep records, or falsified them as little was ever done to enforce more beyond the barest semblance of law in this otherwise dark cancer that gnawed at the otherwise pristine Coronet City.

Exiting the room, she closed the door behind her. In the distance, she heard someone cough, a raspy sound, a sign of heavy spice use. Four out every five glow lights in the hallway were burned out, long sections of darkness broken by dim light that offered some refuge though Crystala had the ever observant Force to illuminate the darkness, revealing the nothingness that dwelled in the shadows.

Shouts from another room could be heard, a rhythmic groan gaining in tempo and intensity. She walked past the door, ignoring the sounds as best she could, though the waves of dark euphoria that bled through the walls were harder to ignore. Reaching the main lobby, she descended a curved staircased that was covered with stained carpet. The concierge, if one could use that title, watched her carefully, the blast cannon under the counter and IG-86 bodyguard droids ready for the first sign of danger.

One corner of Crystala's lips curled upwards in a half smirk. The woman behind the counter felt comfortable in the protection afforded by the droids and the weapon, but little did they know that the red headed business woman who identified herself as Scarlet Valetta was more than capable of dealing with the paltry defenders of the questionable establishment.

Exiting the lobby into the streets, the afternoon sky was clouded over, the local commwaves predicting rain later in the evening. Crossing the street, she glanced at a street vendor discreetly slipping a customer a small spice filled packet after being handed a month's salary of credits. She could sense several people watching her, half of them their focus on her the other half on the briefcase she carried. She wanted to dare someone to try, but she also didn't want to become the talk of the area more than she probably was already, the network of street urchin informants keeping tabs on all the outsiders.

They were good people to get information from, they knew a great deal and few possessed the mental capacity to defend against some mental scrying. Strangely, none of the people she had mentally interrogated had even seen a twi'lek who remotely fitted the description of Findomo. The Blue Sector was fairly large though, and Crystala was only able to cover so much ground.

Then she got lucky, having located a large group sent by Chugga to find Findomo. Bounty hunters often knew of more effective ways to find people, though bounty hunters often fell into one of two categories, the ones who tore through a place like a rancor through a porcelain shop hoping to flush out their target or those who employed a greater degree of subtlety. These ones fell into the former category, having raided another flophouse the day before in a grand display of fireworks and unnecessary explosions.

Chugga must be really worried and riding them hard for results- which is amusing to hear of a Hutt that cares for anything beyond power and credits- or those bounty hunters are just really keen on shaking this place up. Crystala entered a nearby diner, a small bell ringing as she entered. She took a seat, a waitress not even batting an eye at the new customer.

"So, what'll it be?" the woman asked as though Crystala were somehow inconveniencing her from whatever pointless thoughts had been going through her head before she entered.

"Stimcaf," Crystala replied setting the case down beside her on the booth seat. Watching the waitress fetch an off white mug and fill it with a steaming brown liquid, Crystala quickly resolved to not drink whatever brown-in-water concoction was about to be served to her. Turning her attention back out the window, she glanced at someone openly snort a handful of spice. Several speeders drove by, one of them she recognized as belonging to the bounty hunters who were scowering the area. She was still undecided as to whether or not they were helping or making her job more difficult.

Looking down at the table, Crystala saw a mug filled with brown liquid set down before her. She half expected to hear another explosion in the near future after seeing the black unmarked speeder pass by. Incapacitating them won't be too hard though if it comes down to that...

"Dagger of the ISIS? No, I am the hand that wields it!" - Director-General Endivain
"The quickest way to find the needle, burn the haystack!"

“Perhaps ten thousand credits would suffice?” The darkly dressed man asked. It was a simple game of cat and mouse, or perhaps that’s what he would rather have liked it to have been. So many bounty hunters were now crawling over the blue sector that it really became something else. Any one of them could find the Twi’lek first, and any one of them could find the Huttlet first.

Yes, there was that issue with Blue Sector, and how he might have gone elsewhere, but there wasn’t really anywhere else that would offer what the damned twi’lek would have wanted: anonymity. That is, unless of course, he had a patron somewhere who already had those arrangements made? Even so, if it would get out that one of those capable of doing such a thing had assisted a Hutt-naper, it would be problematic for them. So, even if it wasn’t so, Blue Sector still made a natural starting point, while some other assets were being engaged elsewhere to try to find the twi’lek and the Huttlet. That it was known was another problem entirely.

This was where he came in. There were too many bounty hunters, and too much of a margin of error. He was really there to setup an insurance policy so to speak, in case the mission failed. Naturally the first question would be that if the NIF failed at this, who would immediately benefit from it? The most natural answer was the NR. If the NR could be blamed for it, without the NIF being in good graces from having failed, who would benefit from it? That was really the billion credit question. Now, how to play things together towards that, without overtly doing so?

“Naturally, my good man, I’m sure we can reach an agreement.”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, we suffered a few setbacks recently. We managed to get the Director General out in the open, in Blue Sector, but due to some unfortunate luck as of late, we don’t have the assets to spare to follow through with the operation. My contact within the New Republic managed to get an agreement on 500,000 for her to be brought in alive. Naturally, if someone else could bring her in for us, we’d be willing to direct them to the contact for a finder’s fee.” Instantly, the wheels within the information broker’s head started rolling. He knew he was paying 10,000 for the information, but if he could sell the information for 5,000 a pop, a small down payment for a shot at a something 100x that, no perhaps that would be too risky. Perhaps 500 a pop would be better. With so many bounty hunters going about, he could probably easily sell the information to 100 bounty hunters or so, and perhaps get cut in on the bounty payment on top of that.

“I see. Do you have any other information to provide for it?”

“I do, but it would cost more.” The man said, smiling. “I have a dossier on her that I got off some NRI spook. This didn’t come cheap, but I wouldn’t be opposed to providing you with it.”

“500 to glance through, and 50,000 if I like it?” the man replied

“Deal.” The dark man said, and withdrew a data card. The information broker accepted the card, and quickly glanced over it. It was a goldmine. A genuine NRI file on the most powerful person in ISIS, and then with her being out in the open, was perhaps too good to be true.

“Hmm, the data on this is from almost three weeks ago. How did you manage to acquire top secret files so soon?”

“Let’s just say that I have friends in high places.” The man replied. He knew well enough that saying too much could alleviate suspicions. But, saying too little would make it suggestive that perhaps he works for the NRI. All is fair in love and war they say, and now to move on to the next phase of the operation.

“Good Job Alen.” The man driving the speeder said, as it left that part of the city for the star port.

“I don’t like this, but it needed to be done right? Just follow through and make sure that you have backup for Crystala in case this gets out of hand.” Alen replied. It didn’t sit well with him, having actually worked with her a while back, to start moving for what could be hundred of bounty hunters coming to try to capture her.

“We have several crisis teams in the area, that can move to assist her if needs be. Besides, she’s a Jedi, she can handle herself.”

“I hope so.” Alen replied, thinking back to seeing her play Jedi before, and almost getting herself killed.

“For the next phase of the mission, to begin soon, we’re going to try to make them believe the Huttlet isn’t on Corellia. Do you think you’re up to it?”

“Let me guess. You’re planning on altering the CorSec Files to make it appear that he couldn’t have brought the Huttlet with him? So the idea is that he dropped it off somewhere before coming here?”

CorSec was always a problem. Well, officially CorSec was on their side, but unofficially, they liked to exercise their independence, and to try to show off ISIS. Now, as she understood it, her objective was really rather simple. They had wanted her to tamper with a data file, to make it look like it was tampered with. Sure, hacking like that could be performed at a distance. But, truth be told, to make it convincing, she'd have to break in and change the files at some well guarded physical locations. That said, she wasn’t even sure that hacking would be the best approach. No, for this, she figured she’d just need to spin things, which would eliminate the risk of actually having to hack into CorSec files.

The Twi’lek, Findomo had left, perhaps more accurately abandoned, his ship and left, probably for Blue Sector. She glanced over the video again, of the twi’lek disembarking, and leaving the hanger area for the more populated areas of the space port. One can’t just have a huttlet on a leash without drawing suspicion, but saw the cargo he had offloaded, and knowing that the Huttlet was probably in one of those. She went back over the freighter’s manifest. There were a few dozen crates, and while none of them had shown any explicit life signs, she knew well enough that it would be possible to hide some life signs from the customs officials, and went over the few she suspected could have carried the Hutt.

The Twi’lek clearly knew what he was doing, as the suspect crates were all sent to different locations. She knew what OSIRIS had suggested with which crate had held the Huttlet, and the probability of none of them containing it. She highlighted a few of them, and figured she’d see about checking up on which one would be most ideal for actually having the Huttlet. Really, she knew it would probably be a fruitless search, but from what she understood about her purpose, that didn’t matter too much. What mattered was this fiction that someone in the Ubiqtorate was trying to spin, and to make sure that it would be accepted as fact.

"What did you expect from an inverse square law?...in bed!" -- a questionable fortune cookie with addendum.

It wasn't a long wait as a trio of individuals entered the dirty diner, two of them in full body armour and a third in a light combat outfit with a more flexible breastplate. They bee-lined it towards Crystala's table, wasting no time with pleasantries to the waitress who regarded them briefly before taking a step back, clearly not used to seeing people enter her establishment brandishing battle rifles in their hands, as though they were expecting to be attacked at any moment. It wasn't too surprising, given the area, and it probably surprised the armed freelancers to see a lone business woman sitting without escort or any visible protection.

"My, aren't we brave?" the lightly armoured man began as he took a seat across from Crystala, sliding into the booth with a fluid grace. The two heavily armed mercs stood close by, one standing over her, the other standing over the leader of their little group. "Lemme guess, disruptor pistol?"

Crystala smirked, her completely unassuming appearance seeming to work on veteran bounty hunters. "Not quite," she shook her head slowly. Outside she saw another speeder pass by and wouldn't have thought anything of it if not for the blue, grey and black camo pattern painted on it. "Friends of yours?" she asked, gesturing subtly with one finger on the hand she was leaning on.

The man she was conversing with didn't even bat an eye. "Can't be too careful, knowing what you and I know." It was an admirable statement and only a quick cursory dive into his unshielded mind revealed that what he knew was surprisingly little. "So, you called this meeting, what's this all about?"

Fixing him with a disproving gaze, Crystala said, "Your methods. While I don't necessarily mind you rattling the tree to see if any fruit falls out of it, I could do without you leveling entire city blocks in the process."

He snickered once, amused as he recalled each attempt to flush out their target with surprising vividness. "Yeah? And what's it to you?"

"Well, first and foremost, I have vested interests in some of these buildings you have targeted." There was a distinct lack of concern on his face, as though she were supposed to view these disruptions as only minor inconveniences. This made her expression darken somewhat. "Secondly, I'm not the only one with investments here. I personally know some of the others caught up in this and they have expressed a less than favorable opinion of the way you conduct your operations."

"Tell them to take it up with Chugga," the man snorted, waving his hand in an effort to brush aside the petty concern. "Or is that what you're going to do if you fail to convince me to curtail my methods?"

That elicited a sigh from the woman. "I've managed to convince the others that I could at least convince you to exercise an ounce of discretion." Straightening herself up, Crystala glanced once at the guards for effect. "They're prepared to do whatever is necessary to protect their investments and while I'm personally against seeing this whole place dissolve into a full scale turf war, than it's not only Chugga who will be feeling their wrath..." She let her voice trail off as she reached for the briefcase next to her and set it upon the table, unlocking it and opening it to reveal the contents to the bounty hunters. "However, I'd rather extend something of an olive branch rather than issue idle threats and promises. I'm not sure what Chugga is paying you, but I can promise you there is a comparable sum here."

The man's eyes lit up at the sight of all those credits. There was enough there to buy more than a few crates of thermal detonators and no doubt his next fishing trip was all planned out at this point. "So then, assuming I accept this, what would you have us do to find Findomo?"

"I honestly don't care so long as it involves minimal collateral damage to the Blue Sector and everyone who lives within it. We've been able to keep a tight control of this area for the past decade but now you're getting CorSec talking with all your explosions and a crackdown is something no body here wants, least of all you as the chaos that would ensue would provide the perfect cover for Findomo to escape." Folding her hands together, she hid a smile behind them as the decision to comply or not weighed heavily in his head. It would be hard for anyone to turn down the sum being offered and when the man reached up and closed the case, she finally parted her hands, a measured expression on her face.

"I'll see what I can do," he said rather unconvincingly, whether by design or simply because some things might very well be beyond his control she wasn't entirely sure. "Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

Crystala nodded once. "Nothing you don't already know, but if I do find out anything about your twi'lek, I'll be sure to let you know." He nodded and, taking the case in one hand, slid out of the booth and got to his feet, nodding once to her before leading the way out of the diner, his guards in tow. Crystala waited, watching the same camo pattern speeder drive by once again followed by the black unmarked one again. Taking a sip of her stimcaf- and nearly spitting the vile liquid out- Crystala waited for a little bit before getting to her feet and dumping a few credits on the table. Exiting the establishment, she walked down the street to another nearby building where a bright neon holo flickered the words "Blue Sector Pawn Shop". Entering this building and walking past the various displays filled with all sorts of illegal goods from cybernetic mods to guns to rare portable shield generators and other relics of a bygone era, she entered a backroom, the front attendant only once glancing at her before returning to his cleaning duties.

Walking past a door, she reached a hallway filled with more doors, all of which were locked with keypads. Approaching one, she keyed in a numerical code and when the light turned green, opened the heavy metal door and walked inside to a small room filled with monitors and several imagecasters and holoprojectors which were displaying all manner of images from all over the Blue Sector. A gaunt, pale man typed away and without skipping a keystrike, said to the new arrival without so much as looking over, "You were right, they're in the Purple Light District, a run down hostel that caters to their types."

Crystala nodded as she picked up a pair of headphones from a table and pressed one end to her left ear, listening in to a conversation. The case had several small tracking devices and bugs implanted into it, as did several of the credits in case Chugga's bounty hunters got paranoid and tried to switch cases. They hadn't bothered, not seeing any real reason to distrust a local representative of the various criminal groups who were a little more than perturbed by their disruption to the various dealings that made up daily life. "They're going to turn this place into a warzone," Crystala muttered to no one in particular. "And they don't care who they cross in the process..."

"Yeah, well, that's what I'd have expected from hunters sent from Hutt Space... No sense of honour." The operator snickered. "But they are shaking up the status quo."

"That's not the problem so much as what happens when they inadvertently start tipping the balance of power around here." As much as she disliked the general scum and villainy that thrived in these parts, they did play their roles well and were smart enough to leave the well to do on the rest of Corellia alone, at least in so far as the ISIS could be concerned with. CorSec was responsible for cleaning up the rabble and the ISIS only got involved if the unsavory elements posed an active and real threat to the NIF. Though she'd just as soon toss out the lot of them, Crystala and the ISIS lacked the resources to do that and there was also the fact that they would have to fill a power vacuum or completely sweep the place clean. Ultimately, she would carry on much like her predecessors, giving the criminal groups and crimelords special privileges if they actively supported the NIF, even in more subtle or esoteric ways, while those who actively opposed the NIF would find their assets claimed by the former groups.

Sadly, things weren't always so black and white...

Listening in on the conversation some more, she jotted down some particularly interesting notes. "Sounds like they brought an entire army with them..."

Reaching over to flick a switch to another monitor, the operator quickly reviewed a readout from earlier. "About twelve of them if the talk on the streets and holofeeds are anything to go by. Plus another fifteen in support and administrative staff all housed in the hostel."

"Sounds like they're going to call a meeting soon, probably to discuss the credits and how best to spend them..." Crystala smirked, feeling almost eager as things continued to fall into place. "Well, this should give Chugga something more to worry about."

Any player can jump in as the second officer here. I'm going to leave Gains as the main commander of the vessel so as to be a blank for anyone else. Or for Drav to throw in a curve ball as necessary Abraxes is just going to be assisting the crew while studying the ship, coordinating with the local corellian forces, and preparing a CAP in low orbit in case of liftoff by Findomo. I intentionally left the 20 of the ship as a TDY if anyone wants to jump in with an "occifer" :>P

Onboard the Kibosh...

Abraxes Rancor sighed to himself as he sat on the bridge in the seat of the secondary communications officer of the Kibosh. The other man was off duty, and he had volunteered to roll up his sleeves and get some work in. Both in regards to the interactions with the local forces, and in his determinations as his fleet officer. Part of his duties as the XO of fourth fleet was to familiarize himself with the needs, strengths , and weaknesses of every type of ship in the fleet. He had come along on this venture with the Kibosh's commanding officer, a lieutenant by the name of Marcus Gains, and noticed a temporary duty assignment for the second officer position.

'What was the second officer's name again?' Abraxes thought before giving a small shrug. At this point it didn't matter. What did matter was the primary communications officer was helping to handle the needs of relaying communications between members of the ground team and was on call to assist any ISIS members in case the situation changed rapidly. Unfortunately, coordinating with a few of the local PDF forces, was up to him. Even now he was playing politics to stave off a pissing match between Corsec units and the single vessel dedicated here.

For now though, it was an uphill battle as he simply waited for the Corsec officer , a Major-Commandant Rinn Gideus to run his course and say his peace on the nuances of the situation. The man had contacted the vessel about ten minutes ago and had stressed his displeasure at the interruption to Corellia’s local traffic patterns the NIF presence was making. “Beg my pardon, but IF this was so important , then why in the world did the Nifties only send one piddling little ship stocked with officers that have no real ability to dictate any form of fourth fleet maneuvers for Corellia. Is one Huttling really worth all this effort? Or is this just a sheer bit of disrespect from your people thinking CorSec can’t handle the situation on its own?”

Abraxes sat back in his chair and gently leaned forward , putting his hands on top of the console, just so they could be seen. “I’m sorry you feel that way Commandant. There is no disrespect intended, if it means anything to you that I came personally to coordinate this operation with you, even if it’s only a single ship at this time. I can assure you that this situation is important to the political aims of the Federation. As I was currently in mid- inspection of the Kibosh and asked it’s commanding officer to proceed here post –haste to smooth over any tensions between Corsec and fourth fleet. As we both know there have been… unfortunate circumstances in the past that have strained relations and I’m personally here to help alleviate such things in response to this crisis.”

The Commandant snorted,“Crisis? Hmphh, I’d guess we’d have two different opinions of the word crisis there son. May I ask who you are to be able to come here to ‘personally’ ensure this fiasco goes ‘smoothly’ as you say.”

Keeping a calm look on his face, Abraxes silently damned the necessity of playing politics with the locals in his mind. If he had to he could just demand what he needed, though in the long run that would make the next officer’s job harder when, and it was a given that something would happen in the future, when the two organizations of the NIF and the planetary Corsec crossed each other’s radar again. Straightening his back , Abraxes gave the man a small nod of respect before answering, “Of course sir, my name is Lieutenant Abraxes Rancor, current Executive officer of the Federation’s fourth fleet, as I said I was in mid-inspection of the Kibosh before it was diverted here to assist the situation. It’s commanding officer, Lieutenant Marcus Gains felt things would go ‘smoother’ as you put it if I was to take over our side of the coordination efforts between your Corsec orbital units and our vessel. Purely to ensure you that we are taking this matter quite seriously. This was only the closest vessel to respond to at the time. If necessary I’m sure we can divert a few more units if need be to assist. But for now on these matters I’m sure we can come to a mutual understanding on how best to proceed.”

For a moment the Major – Commandant just looked at Abraxes for a length of time, than he pushed a few buttons off screen on his desk, before taking a glance back to whatever he was viewing and then back to Rancor. ”Oh, only a lieutenant, eh? Tchh- they sure are making Executive officers of fleet’s younger these days. I hope you earned such a position and didn’t get it on graft. That would be just my luck to deal with someone who has no idea of how to command.”
At those words, Rancor had to marshall his temper. His competence had never been called into question before. But he quickly squelched any reaction from his features. ”Commandant Major, I’m not here to debate my age with you, but I can assure you that I was giving my commands on merits. Not through any form of … favoritism. I’ll dismiss such things for now as a non – issue due to Corsec’s grievances with the fleet in the past. But may we please now proceed to the matters at hand?”

”Well at least you have some manners, unlike the last kid they sent here. I’ll reserve judgement on you till you’re out of my hair. So what are your thoughts on the matters at hand? Going to co-opt all my security forces to stop our patrols like the last tim-”

Abraxes cut him off mid sentence, “Commandant Major, I’ll be blunt. Your current attitude isn’t helping. All I need are three of Corellia’s many hundreds of Minestra’s to help set up an informal net if someone attempts to lift off with the Hutt. I need them in these positions, and I needed them five minutes ago. I have no intention of interfering greatly in Corellia’s space traffic but at this time we cannot allow the kidnapped huttling to remain a captive. It is imperative to the federation he be found unharmed. As for your ground units support of ISIS I would suggest that your efforts be redoubled as the Director General of ISIS herself is handling these matters. Now, I’m not one to take your head off just for a matter of disrespect but I advise you not to attempt to disrespect her like you have fourth fleet today.”

With those words, Abraxes sent a series of three sets of coordinates over the link, downplanet to the commandant’s office. “My plan as I said is to create a mobile drag net to help prevent any form of escape from the current planetary sector of interest. My goal is to keep interruptions to your normal operations as limited as possible. I can do this by having three minestra’s assisting in fashioning the outer ring of the potential escape zone while maintaining three fighters in a mobile combat air patrol above the sector of interest. I will also maintain three of six fighters the Kibosh possesses on standby in case they are needed to enter the planetary atmosphere. I would request a single howlrunner from your forces to be on standby as an escort for them if such action becomes necessary. However, if there is an emergency to call one of the three minestra’s away to assist your ongoing operations then they may take one of there positions in the waiting net as it were.” Putting a little ice in his voice, Abraxes annunciated the next words very concisely in order to cut through the man’s ego, “Does this formation sound satisfactory to you Commandant?”

Commandant-Major Gideus, just looked at Rancor a moment before emitting a short bark of laughter, “Heh, you might have a little bit of spine in you after all boy. Sure I’ll give you your three minestras… and don’t worry about me and the Director – General. I’d never disrespect a lady. Though, after all this is said and done I might have some better expectations of you in the future.”

Not rising to the bait, an unrattled Rancor let out a simple smile, “Good day, Commandant-Major. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.” The major just stared at him with a surly look through the comlink before reaching to toggle a switch at his desk. Cutting off the communication before anything further could come between them. Rancor had known that the Corsec were to be touchy about anything happening on their ‘turf’ but there senior officers seemed to have the proverbial collective chip on their shoulders.

Ripping off his headphones, he let out a loud sigh. Leaning back in his chair Rancor pinched the bridge of his nose and ruminated once again about politics and how it seemed to interfere with operations. However, he knew that as an officer of Fourth fleet, one fleet that no one seemed to take seriously if at all besides him and it’s commanding officer Draaygo Ruuniik that in time such politics would only have to get worse. Honestly, sometimes he thought being the executive officer of fourth fleet was high above his pay grade. It was only his natural talents, and near obsessive training in logistics and fourth’s needs that had netted him the position for such a ‘young’ rank. That didn’t leave him without a series of headaches though.

“Lieutenant Gains, Lieutenant Rancor. I’ve got affirmations from three local Corsec Minestra’s moving into position that have been outlined. Their captains names are a Sergeant Williards, Vonn and Ziegler respectively. All the same rank, sirs.” the primary communications officer said before switching back to monitoring the local channels and the ISIS support feed. They were on standby after all.

Shaking his head to clear it, Rancor turned to Lieutenant Gains, gesturing to the console where the orbital plot was displayed. “Is there anything you or your second officer can think of that could be improved Lieutenant? Advisements at this time are welcome.”

Lieutenant Gains replied first, ”Near as I can tell sir, there’s only one problem. We only have five pilots for the Ties at the moment, one transferred out to medical for a shoulder injury and we haven’t gotten a replacement yet.

Furrowing his eyebrows Rancor recalled that an assassin class corvette such as the Kibosh would have a complement of six fighters. Taking a breath, heasked, “What type of Ties are we talking about Lt? I didn’t get down to their mooring points when I docked here via shuttle.” ”Int Mk III’s sir.”“Anyone of your crew cross-trained?””Not necessarily...”

Sighing, Rancor nodded feeling he’d have to put in a good report for Gains. The man was a good sort, and had seemed unfazed by Rancor’s presence, just running his ship as he would have any other day. He was Just an officer concentrating on getting the job done and worrying about the rest tomorrow. Rancor like that in the other officer and felt that he would be a vital asset during this operation. “As I’m technically only extra crew on board right now I can take up flying it if need be. I was trained on the old tie fighters, and the mark I interceptors in the academy. I had to keep up with them since my first duty station after the academy was a VT-49 decimator that ran formations with them before becoming a communications officer, and then a commanding officer of my own vessel. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty though I’ll admit I’ll certainly be a little rusty in atmospheric though. How do the mark III’s compare to the mark I’s?”

Seeing Gains arch an eyebrow at Rancor, he pondered what the other officer was thinking before his question was answered. The man took a moment to call up a schematic on his datapad and handing it to Rancor, “Better shields, better maneuverability, better armament but in a bigger package. If you could fly a VT- through a cityscape at low powered thrust you could coast through one in an mark III interceptor sir. One on hand is modified with a scramjet and extra maneuvering thrusters. If you do take the sixth slot on standby I suggest leaving it berthed until necessary. You could get to it in twenty seconds from the bridge at a run if need to.”

Taking the offered datapad, Rancor scanned it quickly, before transferring the file to his own device to peruse, as well as familiarize himself with the checklist for a mark III interceptor's operations. Handing back the other Lt. his datapad, Rancor nodded his appreciation for the man’s efforts before rising from his chair to leave the small bridge. “Thank you , Gains. I’ll go down for the next five minutes to take a look and familiarize myself with it just in case. Better safe than sorry. At least it will save me from the uselessness of dealing with cantankerous old Corsec officers for a few moments. Please call me if you have need of me anytime soon to help coordinate with the Corsec elements, if not please operate at your own discretion. Just keep me advised of any changes you think I need to note.”

That seemed bring a smile to Gains face, “Not a problem sir, and as for the cantankerous ones, well… better you then me Rancor.”

With a short chuckle of amusement, Rancor shook his head, turned, and then strode out of the bridge letting the dull footfalls of his boots echo his intentions to get to work inspecting his potential fighter. His only answer to Gains was letting only the hiss of the door shut behind him. An inspection of the snubfighter would be just the thing to help relieve some of the tension he was feeling. After all, knowing the law of admiral murphy Rancorexpected another call from the dear Commandant sometime in the near future he, probably at the worst of times knowing his luck. After all, the sacrifices one made for the burden of being a staff officer at such a low rank demanded one not be afraid to roll up their sleeves and get down and dirty as the expression went.

Fini seal of approval,also Drav approved me of playing out the huttling awhile ago XD.

As Crystala watched the images of the camera come into focus, she surveyed the live feed of the crowd of mercenaries inside the meeting area with a speculative look. One of the techs in the room noticed she toggled a zoom to change the angle of one of the hidden holocams to zoom in upon one of the mercenaries leaning up against a far wall in the back.

The mercenary seemed average enough, at least well armed but that wasn't what drew her to center the viewscreen upon her profile. The tech noticed the Director straighten up and curse a moment before gazing around at the rest of the present staff before asking a question. "May I inquire who in hell let her off the Observer and what she's doing here?"

The tech glanced at his datapad a moment, checking to see if the paperwork was in order before nervously replying, "Uhm, you did ma'am. You seemed to convey to the Observer's Captain that you wanted to give her something to do. She was flagged for the operation because it says here she knows Huttese, as well as Basic, certain Thyferran dialects, and..." The man paused a little before continuing, "Some Sith. Though how she learned that is redacted. As she's here under the freelancer accreditations you got her, she's technically on the payroll and working with certain ISIS elements due to us needing someone to place the cameras. Also, she already brought in a person of interest for questioning, a man named Dell Xarvig who seemed to be an old acquaintance of Findomo. Apparently the freelancer confirmed that the man admitted that he had assisted in the animatronics of the rubber decoy used to fool the Hutt's parent Chugga as well as the programming the artificial doll's AI to respond to its surroundings. She tracked it down via the type of rubber and local reports involving local shipping manifests that were taxed through customs a year ago."

The tech saw the Director close her eyes, and pinch the bridge of her nose before sighing. "Get whatever else you can out of this Xarvig. I don't care how. I just hope I don't regret the fact that she's here."

The tech nodded, half in appeasement , half in confusion as he wondered why the Director was so concerned about this particular freelancer. At least the girl seemed to have a nice name, 'Moira'. How could anyone with a name like that cause a problem to the operation? So far as he knew, the freelancer's service was impeccable when it came to assisting the NIF, and ISIS, on missions.

Moira leaned back against the wall, seemingly at ease with her surroundings as she subtly scanned the assorted assembly of mercenaries that were bickering around her even though they had already been bought with Huttese credits. Very little or no sense of organization showed itself among them and the echani half assumed things were going to end up messy by the time everything was over.

After busting down the door of a sleeping Dell Xarvig, she had roughed him up a little more than she was comfortable with. It was uncustomary for her to lose her cool but being diverted to help work on a job with a kidnapped child, huttling or not seemed to cut close to the bone to her past experiences. Making her a bit more bloodthirsty for answers then she would have allowed herself to be just a couple months ago.

But that time would have been another life. In that life she would have killed the man, swiftly and cleanly instead of turning him over to agents that came by in a black aircar. But that was a life she never hoped to revisit.

She had gotten wind of this operation and had volunteered as a resource for the Federation. Staying cooped up with Mikka, and the good Director, was wearing on her frazzled psyche. Honestly, if she was a ground worlder in winter she’d have thought she was getting cabin fever. She needed to get out and stretch her legs, and somehow keep herself busy. Somewhere along the way she’d been pointed to this job as a means of helping the federation.

It served a second purpose to get a little ‘extra allowance’ so to speak. Being sure to double check the paperwork to make sure she was paid for her time no matter what she had been off to Corellia. Upon arrival she met with an ISIS handler, who gave her a briefing on the young huttling’s capture and hutt - napping. Truth be told, when she found Xarvig she had just wanted answers, and had found them after punching him a few times to rough him up.
It had seemed a good way to get some stress relief at the time.

The man had cracked like the bad egg he was, spilling that he had designed the animatronics for the decoy. Just as he had for numerous occasions for plays before his old theater had been turned down. So when Findomo had propositioned him for a new model he thought it was for some new production. Not for kidnapping a hutt. Part of her had wanted to kill him, she hated kidnappers of any sort, and those who helped them. But something inside her said it would probably would not be in her best interest. After all the man was cooperating a bit, so all she did was throw him into the black van of an ISIS team before getting told to plant some holocameras at an assembly of mercenaries.

That seemed easy enough, especially when they used a set of doctored credentials to get her through the door.

'So far it had been smooth sailing.'

“Hey sweetie, mind telling me if you’re free after this mission to go sailing, because you look like the type to really float my boat.” A voice said as a hand came to rest on her shoulder .

‘… or maybe not.’

Turning towards the voice she smiled sweetly and with the best of her manners reached up to grip the hand on her shoulder, wrap two of the fingers in a tight grip before moving the arm upwards to tilt the fingers attached to the palm painfully for a few seconds, “No offense to any male that tries to get my attention, but you really shouldn’t touch me without at least asking for a date first.”

The young male offender of her personage gave a rogueish smile as he winced in bit pain, “Oh a temper, I like that in a woman. So, care to wager if you and me are going to have a first date tonight.”

“No, not interested. I never mix work and pleasure so keep professional and your hands off.” Pushing the arm, and the offending man away a few of his fellows began to laugh at his predicament. Apparently from the scowl that flashed across the man’s face he didn’t appreciate the let down either.

Moira ignored him, just leaning back as if she didn’t care as she waited for the meeting to start. She didn’t have to wait long as the man sent by Chugga started his speech to the rest.

The huttling Shugga was currently assessing whether or not the individual in front of him would be good to have for a meal. Though he remembered his captor referring to the other creature as “My dear Commandant”; he wasn’t sure what a commandant was but he was sure the commandant would eat him if he was another hutt or if he gave the largesse man a chance. But if the man wasn’t here to eat him, did that mean Findomo had brought him here as a caretaker? Overall, he could see the commandant wasn't to the young huttling's taste in maids and nurses. For one thing, he was a he... not a she. Yet. That is something that happened with Hutts, they changed sex as they felt like it. But not till long after puberty and Shugga had a long ways till then.

Shugga took a glance outside the bars of the cage, overlaid in chicken wire at all the creepy facsimiles of various automatons that had long since stayed there glancing into nothingness. Fleshed over droids that had been used for something called ‘plays’, whatever those were. He assumed they were like a holovid or something. He liked holovids, especially those shows where large amounts of food were cooked. Shugga had watched many of them from the tip of Chugga’s brood pouch.

Though the things were creepy. He personally thought their glass eyes were the worst feature, just staring at him no matter where he went. He couldn’t get away from the eyes and he wondered why a huttling as glorious as him was even in this wretched place.

'Foolish worker of his Father should have realized his greatness and sent him back already!'

The young huttling slithered to the far end of the cage to try to lick up some moisture from a puddle of water that had accrued there in order to help wet his parched throat before rolling his drying skin in it to retain its moisture. He tried to remain brave, a Hutt was a magnificent species, far above the plebian other races meant to serve them. There was no way he would allow his captor to be given the satisfaction of making the young huttling leak from his eyes. Blinking once to clear away some moisture , he moped in silence. Glancing back at the largesse man from time to time, until he heard the creaking of a door open as the worker who dared disgrace his family entered into his sight.

Even if at the current time this man called ‘findomo’ wore the same face as “the commandant’ who shared his cell. Perhaps, eventually the strange named man would even wake up some time to speak with him. Perhaps , the creature had been placed here as a temporary servant for his liking? But why place someone with so much largesse? Was there any chance that Findomo wanted him squished? Or was the creature food?

He didn’t know.

Lapping a bit more water up, Shugga ignored his captor as he rattled the bars and laughed with glee. The schutta would see eventually and he would be free of his indignity. It was only a matter of time after all. Hutts were the superior race.

“Alright listen up, we are not walking into the lion’s den people. We are going straight into his mouth. Though we’re already a few credits richer with a representative from the local criminal orgs giving us a few creds to keep damage to a minimal. Suffice to say I gave them no guarantees.”

A few men laughed at that before quieting down.

“Now, we know Findomo used to visit places in the red district, the purple district, and the blue around here. Most importantly a brothel in the red called ‘Sandy beaches’ and the matron there hasn’t been too cooperative to our attempts at finding out if anyone there has seen him. In the blue sector there’s this old restaurant called Ochino’s run by a Weequay named Churla. He’s been using the restaurant as a smuggling front for years , taking ‘take out’ orders that deliver goods or even new ships to those who need them for a quick way out of Corellia’s prime areas. So it’s assured we want to figure if Findomo went through him to get another ship stashed somewhere on the planet.
Then in the purple district, right near here there’s a gathering of homeless street gangs that are no better then dirt in the abandoned habitat building of South Central. Findomo’s used them for an informal information network before on a few jobs, so we should find out what we can. Even if we have to rough up a kid or three.

Anyone got any questions?”

“Yeah, how much credits did the locals give us?”

“Enough for a few E-webs, I’ll be buying them soon from a known supplier and we’ll be getting them out to the kill teams we got assembled to bust into places we need to get into. I know we’re all competing here for the biggest prize, but remember no matter what we’ll be reimbursed a small fee. However, if the Huttling isn’t returned alive, or found not to be on this planet, then none of us get paid till we find at least the body. Now get your gear and find the little slug!”

Sighing internally, Moira got her gear ready and prepared to leave. To her it seemed the bounty hunters and assembled mercenaries were grasping at straws and wanting to kick over rocks for information. She was not very sure how productive it would be though. In fact, she would bet it was probably just going to be highly destructive and more trouble than it was worth.

But if she was paid to keep an eye on the mercs to get her credits, then that was what she would do.

After exiting the bridge, Rancor traversed his way through the Kibosh's corridors till he came to the small ventral hangar which housed it's compliment of six starfighters. Two were TIE/ew+ 's the enhanced version of a TIE Electronic warfare fighter, with an added R8 droid. Abraxes gave them only a momentary thought that while they were useful, but he wasn't too sure if they would contribute that much to this mission. However, the other TIE's in their mooring points were all new TIE Interceptor Mark III's. It couldn't be called a true hangar, even though the TIE's were entered like normal, the space was way too small for a bad landing. Though there was enough of a shelf a wreck or two could be recovered.

At least Gains was correct when he had remarked that Rancor could have made it here at a run.

For a moment, Abraxes just looked at the area and shrugged. All in all, the snubs seemed in line with the design of heavy TIE - interceptors more then the previous Ints, but possessed an almost blockier appearance. Not to mention they were still much larger then the preceding models of the line. He would reserve judgement on their look dependent upon how they actually worked out there. Turning upon his heel he marched into the small locker room the pilots had to find a man with a rank of Flight Lt. waiting there with an extra flight suit laid out over the bench. The man glanced at him once before giving him a salute.He could read the placard identifier, denoting the man's last name was Crayser. An odd name, but not too out of line for the myriad names for spacers in the galaxy. Returning the salute Rancor spoke with a wry smile, "At ease Lieutenant. I presume the captain notified you to pull out a flight suit in my size?"

"Straight from storage, Sir. I'll let you have a moment to suit up before taking in a walk through of the new systems aboard the Mark III's. I heard you'll be filling in for our lost pilot if we need one?"

"That's correct, just tell me what you need."

A distinct whine vibrated through the deck plating, making Abraxes wonder exactly what that was. An arched eyebrow was all that was needed for Crayser to fill in the gaps."Nothing so far , Sir. That hum you heard was the half bay's tractor beam launching the others. Regulations don't allow you to just fly out a hangar like on the larger ships when your in a corvettes small connection brace to the mounts. The tractor's also keep weary pilots from having accidents when they're pulled in and conserve space. Doesn't mean we can't recover a damaged craft, though it's hauled off the shelf into a smaller work bay after a rescue crew sees to the pilot's safety of course. It's just a necessary part of limited space."

Smiling at a memory of his own command of a halcyon class frigate, Rancor ruefully shook his head before replying. "I understand the necessities of saving space, my first vessel's command was on a halcyon, you couldn't find a room much bigger then a cell aboard. Space is always at a premium upon every warship I've been on. I'm just glad the Kibosh is no different. Give me five to get this suit on and you can talk me through a pre-flight check list."

"Understood , Sir. I'll be out by mooring point five when you're ready. I'll give you a bit of a pre-flight check list and a list of mods on the snub after I double check your seals. Please clip the helmet to your belt if you go back to the bridge as well. Third locker's yours sir. Manual Code -2231 or use your cylinder."

Without much further ado, Flight Lieutenant Crayser exited. Abraxes removed his rank plaque on his uniform and unbuttoned his collar. Five minutes later , after shrugging himself into the black suit, he used a c-clip to attach the helmet to his belt before sliding his rank placard back in the clear plastic pouch where it was supposed to go on the flight suit. After that minute task was done Rancor took a moment to fold up his discarded uniform and place the articles of clothing neatly in one stack in the provided locker.

A minute later he was climbing into his TIE Interceptor, mark III while behind him Crayser began to familiarize him with the controls before launching straight into a pre-flight checklist. Truth be told, it was slightly different then the controls of a VT-49 which he was familiar with, as well as being different from an old interceptor. In fact, there were a lot more buttons he noticed for the weapons systems, but it was close enough that he would adjust as needed. That was part of an officer's job description, especially when he was just an extra hand aboard the Kibosh's compliment. It was his job to adapt, so he figured that was just what he was going to have to do.